


temperature runnin' high

by Cerberusia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Promiscuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac methodically seduces every member of Les Amis, plus Marius. That's it, that's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	temperature runnin' high

Every man has a certain stage of inebriation where he will tell you all his deepest secrets with only the slightest pressure. Grantaire is in it right now.

"So sodomy is actually pleasurable for the receiver? I confess I've never quite understood how."

"Oh, immensely," says Grantaire. "I could prove it to you if you'd like-" He breaks off abruptly, colouring, and presses his lips together; he looks quite surprised at himself. He takes another swig of his alcohol, clearly considering how to extricate himself, but before he can say anything, Courfeyrac touches his arm.

"I think," he says mildly, that I might enjoy that."

~*~*~

Courfeyrac has long thought that Combeferre should be more sought-after than he is. He has everything to commend him but time, and surely he could be persuaded into making the time to explore his mistress' charms rather than the heavens.

He says as much to the man in question, who snorts.

"I can't say that I find the carnal pleasres quite as distracting as you seem to," he says.

"Then you clearly haven't been enjoying them to their full distracting potential, my friend," says Courfeyrac, and the conclusion is inevitable.

~*~*~

Thre are people who might look at Jean Prouvaire and assume that he was, in common parlance, a nancy. They would not be entirely incorrect: Jehan does not discriminate on grounds of sex, and his mistresses often more closely resemble Hippolyta than Hermione (though the ones that don't tend to look like Clytie instead - Courfeyrac has no idea where Jehan _finds_ these nymphs in human form).

That said, he doesn't think for a moment that Jehan will appreciate being pigeonholed into the womanly role, so he largely lets Jehan pursue _him_ , after dropping a few hints - tender glances, a double entendre or two - and when Jehan looks up through his eyelashes at him after walking him back to his flat and doesn't look at all surprised to be invited in, the victory is all the sweeter.

~*~*~

Every few months, Bossuet turns up at Courfeyrac's door with a sheepish expression and a long, sad but hilarious tale about how he has come to be here. Courfeyrac lets him in with a smile, breaks out the wine and spare mattress, and the two of them make a night of it.

This time, Bossuet has lost his third mistress in two months, and announces to Courfeyrac his intention to take Joly up on his offer to share Musichetta.

"The thing is," he says, "Musichetta says that she wants Joly involved. You know, _involved_. And I'm not opposed, but I am a little _apprehensive_ , you understand..."

"My friend," says Courfeyrac, already pleasantly tipsy, "I am always willing to, ah, lend a hand to a friend in need. I don't think we'll be needing that spare mattress, wouldn't you say?"

~*~*~

It should be no surprise that two days after Bossuet's visit, Joly shows up at Courfeyrac's door.

"I understand that Bossuet has mentioned to you some details of the, er, arrangement between himself, Musichetta and myself," he says as Courfeyrac takes his coat. "I also understand that you have some, er, expertise in these matters, and I was wondering if, er, you might be persuaded to, er, share some of it. With me."

It is a pleasant surprise to Courfeyrac that Joly only mentions sanitation once.

~*~*~

The person whom Courfeyrac is most reticent about approaching is Feuilly: there are certain common assumptions about working men and the middle-class effetes who sleep with them which he would prefer to avoid.

It turns out he needn't have worried: Feuilly, ever sharp-eyed, approaches him after a meeting and asks, mildly,

"So are your exploits restricted to fellow students, or d'you intend to make your rounds of all the lieutenants?"

No-one even thinks to ask why from then on they call each other _tu_.

~*~*~

Trying to talk about girls with Pontmercy is like trying to get blood out of a stone. Trying to get him to talk _to_ girls is plain impossible, which is a shame, because prettiness like that shouldn't go to waste. Finding out that he's never so much as kissed anyone is the final straw.

"Not once, you mean?" Courfeyrac exclaims. Pontmercy shakes his head miserably. Even talking about it makes him redden. "Not even with one your schoolfriends? We've all done it, and with your face I should imagine there'd be scuffles over who got to share an inkwell with you-"

"I always had tutors," mumbles Pontmercy, sinking even further down in his seat. His freckles are eclipsed by his luminous blush. Courfeyrac takes pity on him.

"Well, my dear Pontmercy, I suppose I shall have to be your tutor now in this," he says, taking his friend's chin in his hand - he really is _terribly_ pretty - and proceeds to take great pleasure in seeing how far down the blush goes.

~*~*~

It's two a.m., and Courfeyrac has just been in a fight. He prefers to avoid them if possible - black eyes do not enhance his good looks - but when needs must, he rolls up his shirtsleeves, wades in and puts that brief savate training to good use with his cane. Unsurprisingly, 'needs must' rather often when in the company of Bahorel, who is leaning against the bricks next to him, panting and beaming.

"You'll have a shiner tomorrow and no mistake," he says, turning and catching the side of Courfeyrac's face in one big hand. They lock eyes.

Brick provides terrible traction for being fucked against, but it's worth it this once.

~*~*~

Enjolras is the last, by chance rather than design.

"I hear tell that you have been methodically seducing all members of our circle," he says mildly. Courfeyrac startles: Enjolras pays absolutely no attention to the romantic lives of his comrades as a rule.

"Are you concerned about it having an..adverse effect on our work?" He hates the thought that Enjolras might be disappointed in him, or think it a silly game.

"No," says Enjolras, scrawling something on Prouvaire's drafting of a potential pamphlet, "I was merely curious as to whether you were ever going to get round to me."

"With lines like that, _mon cheri_ , it's no wonder the girls flock to you," says Courfeyrac. "Come round to mine once you've finished: your time has come."

That night, Courfeyrac is pleased to make that marble skin flush with something other than anger.


End file.
